Nefteos
by Mintey
Summary: It wasn't as if it was the first time this had happened...
1. Chapter One : Rude Awakening

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Narnia, C.S. Lewis does, you know the deal...

**Notes:** Message me before using any of my characters, yadity-ya-dee-yah, ya'know, the usual. Takes place during the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Narnia 1007. Kindly read and review!

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**.: Chapter One : Rude Awakening :.**

"Lu, get off of me!" said Edmund in a voice too high-pitched for a teenage boy teetering on the edge manhood. Lucy reluctantly stopped bouncing on Edmund's bed and smiled sweetly. Edmund, however, wasn't done complaining. "You're getting bigger now! You can't just jump on me!"

"Oh come off of it, Ed! Come on, get up!" Lucy seized Edmund's arm and dragged him out of bed. He landed with a thump on the marble floor. Satisfied, Lucy walked out of the room leaving Edmund to lie on the floor, rubbing his head. He was about to stand up when the floor shook.

"Lucy!" Edmund hollered, "Quit jumping!" Somehow, despite the enormity of Cair Paravel, the marble floors would still shake if someone ran in the halls or jumped in certain spots. Edmund was having trouble resisting the urge to wring Lucy's neck when her voice carried back into his room.

"It's not me, Ed!" said Lucy, running to her room to get dressed. Edmund decided to put on some clothes and check out what was going on. Another quake hit the castle, sending Edmund flying into a wall as Peter ran past the door.

"Peter, by the Lion's mane, what is going on?" demanded Edmund. Never a morning person to begin with, this unorganized morning was not helping his mood. Peter had not heard Edmund, so the younger sibling followed his older brother to the western side of the castle, the side with the balcony. Peter, Susan, and Lucy were already there, mouths gaping. Edmund looked outside.

Rows of soldiers were lined up, coming closer to Cair Paravel every moment. The military general Athylt, a centaur, came to a stop at Edmund's side. He turned to Peter.

"Your orders, High King?"

"Send the fauns to the top of Point Paravel - that should be a good defensive archery spot." Peter paused, waiting for Athylt's approval. "Susan, Lucy, you go with them. Put the cats, dogs, horses, centaurs and remaining fauns to the frontlines. The giants can bring up the rear." Susan and Lucy left, leaving the two men and centaur. "Edmund and I will lead the troops. Will you send Tumnus to go ready Valiel and Philip?"

"How did this happen?" asked Edmund, after Athylt had saluted and trotted off to the stables.

Peter's jaw was slack and he seemed ill at ease, an attitude that Peter rarely had, except when he was extremely worried. "I'm not sure." Peter strode off, leaving Edmund leaning on the railing. Then, he realized: the Cair would be playing host to Archenland guests in a matter of days to celebrate the coronation of King Lune, and the mermen patrolling the harbor must have passed off the ships as harmless visitors, since of course they had no means to explore the ships for weaponry. And what about the guards stationed at Lion's Head Shore? They must have killed them. Edmund shook his head, silently cursing himself for not seeing the gaping hole in the security - and it wasn't as if this was the first time something like this had happened. Edmund did, however, know two things: one, he needed to get a move on, and two, as soon as this ordeal was finished, they would be holding a council to improve their military.

As Edmund jogged to the stables to meet Philip, he was feeling a bit more accusing than usual, and couldn't help but be jealous of Peter, who always got to ride his unicorn Valiel into battle, while Edmund was always stuck with Philip for "his own good," as Peter would say. Yet, Edmund told himself, Peter knew very well that he had become a very good rider and could handle one of the chargers. Maybe he was jealous? Edmund shook his head trying to clear bad thoughts from his brain, but envy had come over him like a thick fog, and he found himself despising Peter more and more every second.

"Good morning, my King," said Philip cheerfully as Edmund stormed into the stable. Edmund scowled at Philip, removed the saddle which appeared to have been laid carefully on Philip's back by Peter, not Tumnus, and hoisted himself onto the horse's back. "No saddle, Edmund? That isn't smart - your brother won't be very happy."

"Forget Peter, I'm tired of taking his orders," said Edmund. Philip turned his head to look Edmund in the eye.

"He is the High King, and your older brother - two reasons why you _should_ do what he says."

"I don't care about his titles; he's also the most bossy, overprotective, and cocky man I know."

"Edmund, your brother is concerned for you."

"No, he isn't. He cares about himself." Edmund dug his heels into Philip's sides, as you would to a regular, non-talking horse. "Come on, quit wasting time." Philip snorted, clearly disagreeing with Edmund, yet obeyed nevertheless and broke into a canter.

Peter was sitting on Valiel at the front of the Narnian troops. "No saddle, Ed?" asked the High King as Edmund approached. Philip chuckled but Edmund didn't reply. He stayed face-forward, with his hand clenched around his sword's grip, though the action was more out of annoyance than it was a preparation for battle. Peter unsheathed Rhindon.

"I think I know how they invaded," started Edmund.

"Don't care," Peter said shortly.

Edmund blinked in surprise - Peter had been in a fine mood this morning, so what had changed? He shrugged it off as tenseness from the approaching army, and asked, "Who are they, anyway?"

"Humans." Something was definitely up.

"Pete, that's not helpful," Edmund tried_._

"Doesn't matter, you won't really need to fight at all." Edmund's mouth gaped slightly in annoyance. Why in Aslan's name was Peter giving Edmund the cold shoulder?

"Pete, who?" demanded Edmund.

Athylt spoke from Peter's side, "The Lone Islanders, more specifically the Avrans. They took over Doorn and Felimath, then sailed over here to challenge the mainland Narnia forces. I'm not sure who their leader is - it's too risky to send the gryphons over to check because we have no way of knowing how accurate their archers are."

The look on Peter's face told Edmund that Peter had not known who they were, but that didn't mean that Peter needed to be so snappy about it - he could have merely said, "I don't know." Edmund frowned and spoke directly to Athylt.

"Well, at least we know they'll be tired from being awake all night - that is how they traveled, by night, correct? If they had been by day one of the swallows or squirrels might have noticed."

Peter turned to Edmund impatiently, intercepting the question meant for the general. "Look, Ed, just shut up."

"Fine." Edmund clenched his jaw, realizing that there was no time for discussion here and now. They had an army to lead and an army to defeat, and it was more urgent than ever because the invading army was the army of Fylder. _Too bad he knows what he's doing_, thought Edmund, _I should have known that he would have found a way around house arrest. _

Peter, oblivious to Edmund's unhappiness and wandering mind, pointed his sword forward. "For Narnia," said Peter, "and for Aslan!"

Valiel reared. Peter, the excellent rider he was, stayed in perfect balance and urged him into a flat-out run. The Avrans yelled some sort of mangled battle cry and began to run forward, too.

"Archers, to your ready!" shouted Susan from atop Point Paravel. "Now!" At the same moment, thousands of arrows flew forward. They seemed to linger in the sky for a moment until screams could be heard below as the arrows hit their targets.

The battle for Cair Paravel had begun.

Valiel galloped forward, his hooves pounding on the tall grass, sending clumps of dirt flying into Edmund's face. He shut his mouth and urged Phillip faster causing Peter to divert his eyes from the approaching troops to keep an eye on Edmund. Something was missing - and no, Peter wasn't just imagining it because he wished Edmund wasn't fighting.

"Ed!" screamed Peter, his voice just audible over the loud battle noises as he realized the vital equipment that Edmund had neglected. "Your chainmail!" Edmund looked down at his chest. With the rush of events, he had forgotten to wear a layer of chainmail under his shirt. "Go on, go back and get it!" yelled Peter, turning to make a slash of his sword at one of the yelling Avrans. "Now!"

Edmund shook his head in a gesture of refusal. If he stayed on Phillip, it would be nearly impossible for the Avrans to hurt him, or at least this was Edmund's reasoning. Peter opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind and pressed his lips into a thin line. Must Edmund always be this stubborn? Sure, the trait was one that had saved Narnia and Aslan's army from the Witch's clutches, though now Peter found it downright obnoxious and childlike. Peter swore that he most certainly would give Edmund a good verbal lashing later and he tore his mind from his younger brother to pay attention to the Avran army. The Narnian cats, who had sped ahead, made good use of their claws and had managed to wipe out a significant portion of the army. Peter knocked out one man with a swift swing of his word. His armor-clad elbow involuntarily crashed down on an archer to his left. Edmund guided Phillip to the right and Peter stayed left, separating the pair.


	2. Chapter Two : Old Scars

**.: Chapter Two : Old Scars :. **

Up top of Point Paravel, Susan saw the same archer Peter had knocked down moments ago begin to rise. She instantly became annoyed at the ignorance of her fellow archers. Quickly, she grabbed an arrow from her quiver and drew her bow. Her shot was accurate, and it struck the man in his chest. He fell to the ground, dead. Lucy, however, was having a bad day, unable to strike anyone down so she began to climb down the rocky ledge that led to the battlefield below.

"Lucy!" yelled Susan. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going down there, to use my dagger!" Lucy's foot slipped on loose rocks and she fell halfway down the ledge. "I'm okay!"

If it had not been such a serious situation, Susan would have laughed at Lucy's clumsiness. Instead, she vowed to protect her family from harm. Susan lifted multiple arrows from her quiver, not wanting to waste valuable seconds by reaching back for new arrows. Her skill was the kind only to be matched by decades of practice, a kind that every archer throughout Narnia envied. She continued to shoot at men that seemed to swarm around Lucy, Edmund, and Peter like ants to sugary food. Her shots grew frantic, becoming less accurate each time. There were too many. She couldn't do this.

Lucy, now down at ground level, made it her goal to protect her brothers as well, though she found herself easily distracted by other wounded Narnians in need of her cordial. "Plashtart!" cried Lucy, spotting her marshwiggle friend, who was more of an acquaintance, since he still believed the monarchs were out to kill him. "You must drink this." Lucy attempted to pour a drop of her cordial into Plashtart's mouth, but he kept spitting it out while shouting, "No, poison! Poison, I tell you! Don't trust it!" This was enough to make Lucy wish that no other marshwiggles had wandered into the line of battle. Eventually, she managed to clamp his mouth shut and force him to swallow, and of course it healed him mere moments later. Lucy glanced around, searching for Peter and Edmund.

Peter was on the outskirts of the Avran lines, and had Valiel charging to and fro to break up the Avran troops. He appeared to have it sorted. On the other hand, Lucy could not see Edmund. She thought she saw a glimpse of Philip's golden tail though she wasn't willing to take any chances when she saw an archer taking aim at the horse. Lucy threw her dagger at the man and worked her way through fighting soldiers to pull it out of the now-dead Avran's chest. It was now covered in blood, but she was on a mission and without a second thought, she wiped it on her velvet tunic. Then, she froze.

The tail that was Philip was now on the ground. Lucy rushed over, pausing only to stab a man or two with her dagger along the way. Sure enough, a red Narnian arrow was sticking out of his heaving chest. She couldn't help but think how closely Philip resembled a dying Edmund... No. Not here. Lucy cleared her mind to focus on the task at hand. Using her dagger, she cut the shaft out of his chest and carefully wiggled the arrowhead out after. Whether or not it was Susan's stray arrow, or an Avran arrow, it was impossible to tell, but what was important to Lucy at the moment was saving Philip. The sight of a gaping hole spilling blood was enough to make her dizzy with the unhappy memories. She quickly poured a few drops from her healing cordial into his mouth, not wanting to see this battle any longer.

"Thank you, my queen," said Philip. He stood slowly to regain his composure. "Where did Edmund go?" Lucy had to admit that she honestly did not know and had been hoping Philip could tell her. "Well then, we have a job to do. Up you go," Philip told her as he used his nose to nudge her safely onto his back. Lucy began to ask Philip to bring her back to the Cair, and that she would deal with any dying Narnians later, but Peter rode up beside them.

"Lucy!" cried Peter, "Go home, you shouldn't be on the battlefield!" Peter's warning fell upon deaf ears as he broke aside when more Avrans appeared. "Find Ed!" was Peter's last shouted request before Philip and Lucy saw no more of him. Philip gave a small buck and kicked an Avran in the head, nearly unseating Lucy, so she leaned over his neck to speak to him.

"No more of that! I can't ride like Edmund, and speaking of, if we don't find him soon..." she trailed off.

"Say no more," grunted Philip, sounding short of breath. Still, he managed to gallop faster in search of the King.

Philip's sudden spurt caused Susan to lose track of Lucy. She was having trouble locating all three of her siblings, now, and before only two had been enough trouble. Edmund was nowhere in her sight and Peter wasn't much help with his sudden spins and spurts on Valiel. The colorful banners, prancing horses, ferocious cats, and violent fauns were not helping in her search. Everywhere she looked there was something impairing her vision so she settled for taking out Avrans at all corners of the battle.

Meanwhile, Edmund found himself splayed on the ground. Philip had been struck and collapsed so suddenly that it had Edmund with no opportunity to fall properly. His right arm hung at a strange angle. He shook it out, then grabbed his sword. Edmund grunted. It seemed heavier somehow. An Avran noticed Edmund's vulnerability and charged, bringing his weapon down on Edmund's limp sword. Under the pressure of the attack, Edmund collapsed to his knees. He managed to use his left arm to punch the man in his most sensitive spot. The man howled. Edmund stood up to finish off the Avran with one weak stab of his sword before stumbling forwards a few steps.

A small pony spooked, dumping his rider, so Edmund reached out to grab the reins. He catapulted into the saddle, causing the still-frightened pony to jump sideways. Edmund brought the pony to a halt in both an attempt to calm it down, and to see his wound, which was not a smart thing to do in the middle of a battle. He slid his sleeve out of the way to get a better view of his arm and when it was visible, he felt himself go pale. Maybe Peter had been right - he should have gone home. Blood trickled from his elbow down his skinny arms. Edmund wiped it on his shirt.

_There._ Susan, still with the archers, finally spotted Edmund on the pony. "Why is he standing still?" she said to no one in particular.

"Madam!" said a dwarf. He pointed behind Edmund. An archer was taking his aim at her brother.

Susan found more arrows from a common bin, since she had already used the majority of hers up. She lined the knock of the arrow on the bowstring and attempted to aim the best she could, which was not very considering how her hands quivered, making her vision shaky. _If I miss this, I'll hit Edmund._ She willed her hand to stop moving. _If I don't take the shot, the other man will!_ Susan released her hold on the string. The arrow seemed to hover in the air for eternity. It pierced the man in the back, but not before an arrow was released from his bow as well. Thankfully, Susan's shot made the man lose his aim. The arrow flew towards Edmund, who still stood immobile.

Just then, Edmund caught sight of the attacking army's leader, dressed in fancy clothing that seemed unfit for battle. Peter was busy fending off some soldiers, so Edmund took it as his responsibility to defeat the king - or, whatever this man called himself. The pony spurted forward, causing Edmund to teeter off balance. Maybe Edmund had kicked it a little too hard. Edmund reached for his sword, but the arrow, still in flight, caught Edmund in his arm. The arm reaching for the sword. The injured arm. The sudden and unexpected pain made Edmund's arm contract in a strange manner and he to lost the grip on his sword's hilt. His sword fell to the ground and someone else picked it up to use as a second weapon. It was soon the least of Edmund's worries, though. He yanked the arrow out, not thinking to do it carefully as Lucy had done to Philip, then clutched the spot it had hit. Perhaps yanking it out hadn't been the best idea - it had likely torn more flesh coming out than going in. Edmund urged the pony faster, eager to get this ordeal over with and put a clean, tight bandage on his arm.

Peter, now free of those he had been facing, noticed Edmund. _That boy is going to get himself killed!_ Peter slashed his sword on a man who thought he had snuck up unnoticed by the High King. Valiel saw Edmund too and charged towards the other King. The unicorn's speed was still not enough. Edmund had already reached the leader.

Susan squinted. Edmund had gone too far out. If she took a shot, the arrow would not reach them. Even if it did, the shot would be inaccurate and risk hitting Edmund or any other Narnian. _Ed, be safe. I can't help you now. _She hadn't noticed his dropped sword.

"Can you see him anywhere?" asked Philip, "I would look myself, but you're higher up." Lucy tried to find Edmund but too many people and creatures were running around. It was impossible to see her one brother, though she did see Peter on Valiel sprinting at something.

"No," she said, "But I see Peter riding Valiel like a lunatic."

Philip chuckled. "I'm sure he has an explanation. Come along, we'll try closer to the Cair, maybe that's where your brother is, and we can drop you home along the way."

Lucy fussed a bit, still torn between the safety of home and the reward of helping those in need on the battlefield. At last, she shrugged, agreeing, yet not knowing she was riding further from her brother. Further from helping him.

Peter could see now that Edmund was weaponless and without armor, with a pony as his only defense. Edmund dismounted, intending to face the leader one on one and unsurprisingly, the pony galloped away, scared out of its wits. When the Avran leader noticed the Narnian King, he turned to look at Edmund, who recognized the man at once. Fylder.

Fylder pulled out his sword. It resembled Rhindon, Peter's sword. He must have gotten it specially made, since the last time they had met, Peter's sword was the first thing Fylder attempted to steal. Edmund, taking in all of this, had said nothing, so Fylder filled the silence. "What's the matter, boy? Too... scared?"

"I should have known," said Edmund simply. He spat on the ground at Fylder's feet. "You disgust me."

Fylder grinned. "I thought you were the_ Just_ King," he said, placing extra emphasis in a mocking manner on Edmund's title.

"The Just King of Narnia only serves his people. The _true_ people."

"You're saying I'm not a Narnian?" Edmund did not reply. "Answer me, fool!"

Edmund winced when Fylder shoved his hurt arm. "I'm saying that I should have known you would challenge Peter's authority again. You never did like him. You never liked any of us, since the moment we entered Narnia." Fylder remained silent with an annoying smirk on his face. "In fact, I bet you were on_ her_ side! Jadis probably paid you to finish what she started! She wanted me dead from the moment she laid eyes on me."

From the way Fylder said, "Believe what you want, boy," Edmund knew he had found the truth.

"Don't call me boy!" said Edmund, his voice growing stronger. "And guess what. There's only going to be one of us dead by the end of this." Edmund laid his good hand on Fylder's chest. "And it's not going to be me," said Edmund as he shoved the man backwards.


	3. Chapter Three : Her

**.: Chapter Three : Her :.**

"Oh, so the little kid's got a backbone, now, ain't he?" said Fylder.

"I swear I'm going to kill him this time," mumbled Edmund. He narrowed his eyes on Fylder.

"Where's your sword, too good for that, too?" Edmund turned his head to peer at his empty sword sheath. "I won't fight an unarmed man," Fylder announced, sounding as if he had already won the battle.

"Oh, but you will," said Edmund.

"Make me."

Edmund luckily had gotten into a bad habit of wearing leather boots instead of metal boots into battle, so his legs were light. He launched a well-placed kick that connected with Fylder's gut. The man squatted, gasping. Edmund stared at his enemy with flushed cheeks. Just because his arm was hurting didn't mean that Edmund couldn't use his legs. Fylder stood up and in one swift movement he swung his sword at Edmund, who had known Fylder would do the likes of this.

"Told." Edmund ducked. "You." He used his good arm to pull an arrow out of a dead man. "That." He doubled over to avoid another strike by Fylder. "You'd." Edmund threw the arrow to the best of his ability. "Fight." Edmund frowned when the arrow missed. It seemed that he would be fighting with his bare hands today.

Fylder smiled another evil smile. He brought his sword to one side of Edmund, and Edmund countered it by leaning left. Fylder swung his right fist into Edmund's side, causing Edmund to emit a grunt. It was weak, but the punch took its toll. Edmund was hurting, and Fylder knew it. He figured he already had beaten the young King, so he paused to converse with Edmund.

"Surrender now, and I'll give you a nice job as my servant, silly child." Edmund ignored the comment. He was too busy looking for a weapon. Any weapon. A discarded strap of leather lay just out of reach. Edmund inched backwards. Fylder stepped forward. They continued this dance for a long moment until Edmund bolted to the strap, but Fylder was quick and placed his sword in front of Edmund's stomach.

Edmund wobbled on his toes. The sword pressed lightly into his tunic. He breathed in, and leaned over to retrieve the strap.

"Never." He bent under Fylder's outstretched arms, then spun behind the man's back. Fylder whirled around.

"Oh, and a measly piece of leather is going to help you defeat me?"

"If you keep fighting like a girl, sure." Edmund dodged another poor swing of Fylder's.

"I am the future High King of Narnia. And no little boy is going to deny me of that."

Edmund glanced at his arm. Blood flowed profusely down his arm, and from where the arrow had once protruded. He poked it. No feeling. As Fylder slashed his sword from the right, Edmund grabbed the thickest part with his hand. _Okay, so maybe it _does _have feeling_, thought Edmund when the blade dug into his hand. He grunted and twisted the sword behind Fylder's back. Edmund kicked Fylder in the rear, sending him flying onto the ground. Then, with a foot on top to keep the man in place, Edmund tied Fylder's hands with the leather strap. Edmund grabbed Fylder's shirt collar, pulling him back up.

"How dare you insult my brother like that," growled Edmund, "Giving a man like _you_ his title!" Edmund slapped Fylder across the face. It wasn't a very good slap, as Edmund forgot to use his good hand, but it smeared his blood across Fylder's face. The gross mix of another man's blood and sweat was enough to get the point across to Fylder. "Looks like you're not getting it, anyway."

"Me," chuckled Fylder, "no." Edmund twisted in time to see two of Fylder's generals dart over. "Them, well, we'll see."

Edmund parried their blows. Duck, spin, kick. Fists connected with skin. Blood poured from Edmund's hand. Roll, lean, leap. Sweat dripped down his face.

"You know you can't win," said one.

The other said, "There's two of us. One of you."

Punch, hit, fall. Edmund gazed upwards. Both men were standing over him. Kick, groan, lay.

"Where are those siblings of yours?"

"None come to save you?"

"I guess they don't love you after all."

Edmund struggled to get up. The first man pushed him back down.

"So, I guess this is it." The second pulled out a knife.

"Admit it, you've lost."

"Nothing you can do now."

"_Your Majesty_."

Edmund did not respond to their jeering, nor did he try to move. His hand continued to bleed, sweat continued to drip, and breaths grew more rash. He closed his eyes, waiting for the knife that didn't come. Maybe they had left him to bleed out? Then he heard the voices.

"I've always wanted to kill someone."

"No, I want to!"

"Fylder said that _I_ was the head general."

"Did not!"

Who that knew army generals were so immature?

"Did too!"

"Liar!"

Edmund squinted over his shoulder. The grass obstructed his view, but he could make out an abandoned sword. _If I could only_...

"He's going to die on his own if we don't just kill him now!"

_Hurry!_ screamed Edmund's instincts. He flipped over with what little strength he had left. If Edmund hadn't hit one man's toe with his foot, they might have not noticed.

"See, now he's trying to run away."

"Oh, so it's my fault."

Then again, it didn't seem as if they cared, anyway. Edmund crawled forward with one arm and reached for the sword with the other. His hands clamped over the hilt as he waited for the right moment.

"Here, give it to me."

"No."

"I said give it to me!"

Edmund knocked the "head general" in the shin, who howled from the unexpected pain. Edmund jumped up, holding the sword with his left hand. Unfortunately, he never fought with his non-dominant hand, much to Athylt's dismay. Edmund decided to finish the one man who still rolled on the ground while he still had a chance. He stabbed the sword into the man's neck. His breathing stopped. Edmund pulled out the sword, which was covered in blood. _That was almost my blood_. He picked up the knife with his other hand.

"Half dead with a wounded hand. You can't win," said the remaining general.

"Watch me." Edmund threw the knife and it landed above the man's collarbone. _It's nice to know I still have aim, even when hurt_. Edmund took advantage of the moment to stab the sword into the man's heart. Being his left hand, the aim was off, so the sword landed in his gut. Massive amounts of blood fell from both wounds, enough to kill the man from lack of it. Edmund retrieved both sword and dagger and placed the securely in his belt, knowing he might need them for later.

"Ed!" Edmund spun to see Peter gallop up on Valiel. "I thought I told you to stay out of this."

"You would let me go to battle if you actually ca-"

"Edmund!" Philip slid to a stop, nearly sending Lucy over his neck. She gave him a fierce glare, which the horse luckily missed, because it might have offended him. Susan slid off of Philip's rear and said, "Don't you ever do that again."

"You can't tell me what to do," sneered Edmund, but when a hurt look crossed Susan's face, he instantly wished he could have taken it back. This battle was really messing with all of their moods.

"You're bleeding," gasped Lucy. She pulled out her cordial.

Edmund shook his head. "Save it for more desperate needs."

"We'll finish this later," said Peter, giving a curt nod as he urged Valiel off.

Susan re-mounted Philip. "I expect you back at the castle shortly," she said briskly.

Edmund dragged his feet on the way back to Cair Paravel. Most of the Avrans had broken up their ranks not long after they realized that their leaders were captured and dead. Now, the battlefield was even more chaotic as Narnians mingled with the Avrans, trying to figure out what had caused this sudden attack. Edmund didn't bother to eavesdrop; Peter would surely give him an earful. He was not eager to deal with Peter, and he also wanted to find his sword, so he continued taking his time. Midway there, he spotted it only to find that it was now in two sharp halves. Edmund kicked it with frustration. _This day is just getting worse and worse_. He continued the long walk, dumping the dagger and sword he had gathered from Fylder's generals along the way. He would make his own sword - he didn't need to have another memorandum of Fylder's.

Back at the castle, Susan and Peter were angrily discussing things. "He blatantly disobeyed me!" yelled Peter, while Susan paced back and forth, thinking about how Edmund had treated her before.

"Peter, just because you're the High King doesn't mean you have more authority over Edmund, or Susan, or me," Lucy said quietly as she peered out the window, watching the events of down below.

"So?" Peter threw his hands up in exasperation. "He could have gotten killed."

"He's not a boy anymore, and neither are you. You should be making _responsible _decisions."

"It _was_ a responsible decision."

"Just what, exactly?" said Lucy, "Making your brother so mad that he might not talk to you for a week or more?"

"Look." Peter's blue eyes sparkled in a fierce glare. "He almost _died_." Lucy thought she saw a tear fall over Peter's eyelid.

"Yes, that is true, but-"

"He. Almost. Died."

"That was seven years ago!"

"Still. I don't think you understand, Lu. He-"

"No. I don't think _you_ understand, Peter. He's not your son, and he isn't a child anymore!"

Susan interrupted the pair by saying, "He wasn't quite himself today."

"Sorry?" asked Peter, surprised at Susan's sudden remark.

"I don't know what's gotten into him. He didn't seem like his normal self today."

"He was fine this morning," said Lucy, "When I was in his room."

"You don't think..." Peter's face became unreadable and his glare turned angry. "You don't think it's _her_?"

"Edmund said he stopped having nightmares," Lucy said, "It can't be."

"Edmund doesn't always tell the truth," Susan pointed out.

"I suppose we'll find out soon enough," said Peter, nodding towards the long hallway which Edmund had just entered.

* * *

**A/N: **Some of you may recognize this story as **_What's Worth Fighting For._** I wrote it a few months ago, but I never really edited it *cringes* Anyway, I'm doing so now, and the plot is changing dramatically, so I'm deleting the last four chapters until I re-write them. I think they'll be done around September 13-14. So, I advise you re-read, because with the helpful feedback of many people, I've made some changes (IE: more convincing invading army, Edmund's motives for ... what happens in later chapters, et cetera).


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